


I Fell In Love in Washington Park

by dkwilliams



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chance encounters can lead to many good things - including song-writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Fell In Love in Washington Park

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Tim_Don_Athon on Live Journal in 2009. I love coming up with/reading new ways that Don and Tim met the first time. This idea came to me a while back while I was re-reading "Death Trick", and in particular two passages:
> 
> _I...looked out the bay window to my right and saw the exact tree in the park under which I had met Timmy Callahan. I smiled._
> 
> _Timmy, in the two and a half years I'd known him, had threatened at least once a month to compose a song that started "I fell in love - in Washington Park/ With a man who'd remarked on the weather," but he'd never gotten around to finishing it._

"Nice weather we're having today."

Timothy Callahan, standing in the middle of Washington Park holding the leash of his former neighbor's dog, looked around him in confusion. While it was true that they'd been enjoying some unseasonably fine weather for this time of year in Albany, it was also true that he was alone in this section of the park. Except for the dog, of course. Which meant that he had to have imagined that masculine voice, unless the dog had suddenly developed the ability to speak. And while Fluffy was cute and talented in his own way, Timothy doubted that human speech was within his abilities.

"Could be a little cooler, but hey, you can't have everything, right?" said the voice again.

Timothy looked down at the dog uncertainly. "Fluffy?"

"Up here."

Timothy flushed as he realized that the voice was coming from the large tree behind him, not from the dog.

"Don't look up!"

Timothy froze in the act of turning to look in the direction of the voice. "Why not?"

"Someone might be watching. Look around first. Is there anyone looking in this direction? Say, a large, angry man with a baseball bat? Or anyone else acting strangely?"

"Other than you, not that I can see."

Just to be cautious, though, Timothy turned in a slow circle, noting the other patrons of the park. Despite the fine weather, the park was nearly deserted, but that might have been because it was the dinner hour rather than the temperature or lack of rainfall. Which reminded him of his own dinner: leftovers waiting to be reheated. His stomach growled.

"There's a young man with a SUNY T-shirt and a skateboard, and an older woman feeding the pigeons, but no one else that I can see," he reported to his unseen companion.

"Good; then it's safe for me to come down."

There was a rustle from the tree and this time he turned to look, just in time to see an agile man descend from the tree with more speed than care, landing on the ground with a practiced bounce that spoke of great experience with exiting similar structures. Timothy didn't know whether to be intrigued by that thought or not, then decided that - discretion being the better part of valor - it was time to get both Fluffy and himself home. And then the man looked up with a grin and a flash of bright blue eyes, and Timothy found himself frozen on the spot, staring.

The man grinned at him and held out his hand. "Thanks for the assist. Donald Strachey, by the way." When Timothy continued to stare silently, he prompted, "And you are...?"

Timothy realized that he'd been caught gawking like an adolescent and blushed, then tucked the novel he was carrying into his pocket so he could shake hands. "Timothy Callahan. Happy to be of service."

Was he imagining it, or did Donald linger over the handshake just a bit longer than was customary? Then Fluffy scratched at the man's leg for attention and Donald laughed, released Timothy, and squatted to pet Timothy's canine companion.

"Well, hello, there! Fluffy, is it?" He peered up at Timothy, blue eyes clearly dancing with laughter and said, "Fluffy? _Really?_ "

Timothy blushed again and said, hastily, "He's not my dog - well, not officially. Fluffy belongs to a former neighbor." He cut himself off before he could add that Fluffy's owner had apparently fled the country to avoid imprisonment for tax evasion and that his ownership of Fluffy might become permanent.

"Good," Donald said with a last scratch behind the adoring dog's ears before standing again. "I was starting to have doubts about my first impression of you."

Before he could stop himself, Timothy said, "And that was...?"

Donald cocked his head. "Good looking, of course. Single. Gay. Professional - possibly an accountant or lawyer. And a fan of classic mystery novels, which is a definite plus in my opinion," he added, nodding towards the book now residing in Timothy's pocket.

Timothy willed himself not to blush at the "good looking" comment. He'd formed his own opinion as well, equally favorable. _Not_ that Donald was Timothy's type at all, which tended to run to tall, gorgeous, and slender in Brooks Brothers suits and expensively tasteful ties. Donald was moderately attractive but not gorgeous, about his own age, shorter and wiry, with a build that obviously came from hard work - and not at an overpriced gym. His suit looked like he was accustomed to climbing trees in it, and his tie had obviously come from the close-out bin at some chain department store.

"I suppose it's easy enough to determine how you guessed all that."

Donald's grin widened and Timothy's estimation of his attractiveness tipped over from "moderately" to "very". "I never guess, Watson."

"And do you often have to hide in trees from large men with baseball bats?" Timothy asked dryly.

"When they're chasing after me because I gave their ex-wife photos of them at the local no-tell-mo-tel, yeah," Donald admitted, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully.

"You're a private eye, then. Or a paparazzi."

"Strachey Investigations," Donald said with a nod. "But I prefer 'gumshoe'. It's more romantic."

Once again, Timothy's mouth engaged before his brain and he found himself saying, "Are you the romantic type, then?"

Donald cocked his head again, amusement lighting up his eyes. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night and maybe you'll find out."

A half-dozen excuses popped into Timothy's head but what he said was, "All right."

Donald's infectious grin made its appearance again as he named a place and time, and Timothy found himself smiling back as he agreed. Donald bent to bestow a parting scratch to Fluffy, then said, "Till tomorrow night, then" and headed off.

As he watched Donald walk away, Timothy looked down at Fluffy to find the little dog staring up at him.

"All right, it was impulsive and not very much like me, but you must admit he had a great pick-up strategy." Fluffy barked sharply, in apparent agreement. "He's right, though - Fluffy is a terrible name. How do you feel about Watson?" The little dog cocked his head again, reminding Timothy of Donald, and then barked again. "Then it's settled. But I wouldn't get too attached to Donald Strachey, if I were you. Tomorrow will probably be a disaster and we'll never see him again."

But as he and the newly-rechristened Watson headed out of the park, bound for tonight's dinner and a look-through his closet for suitable date-night wear, Timothy found himself humming a little tune as words idly ran through his thoughts.

_I fell in love - in Washington Park  
With a man who'd remarked on the weather..._

  
The End


End file.
